That Place Inbetween
by Funky In Fishnet
Summary: Post-series2. Allan goes back to the Holy Land to find Will and Djaq. A reconnection and a romance. WillDjaqAllan.


_**Disclaimer: **__It is all owned by the BBC and Tiger Aspect Productions._

_**Author Notes**__: My way of mending the OT3 after series 2. All comments are welcome, hope you enjoy!_

* * *

**THAT PLACE INBETWEEN **

When Will sees Allan walking up the road, he assumes he's seeing things.

But when he looks up a second time, wiping the sweat of midday from his eyes, Allan is still there. Instinctively, Will grips his axe handle, the familiar smooth wood. Not long ago it would have been bitterly for protection against his friend, but now it's an anchor. He can feel his heart move faster for just a second as Allan draws closer.

He can feel Sherwood, more strongly than he has done for the past months, even more strongly than that first night in Djaq's arms under stone ceiling and cool sheets, her body slippery-soft against him.

"Alright, Will?"

Allan sounds relaxed and confident, he looks it too. But Will is an expert in reading Allan, unpracticed recently, but still an expert. As he nods, he can see that little bit of apprehension in Allan's eyes that he can't hide. Will's mouth, for a moment, quirks almost into a smile.

"Allan," he speaks at last, gladness and disbelief all poured into a single word.

Then Allan grins and it's like Will can move again and they both step forward with only the smallest pause on Allan's part, like he's not sure if Will's going to punch him or hug him. But they manage to embrace almost awkwardly and Will gets the breath squeezed out of him so that his laugh comes out a lot higher than he'd like. He knows he's grinning when they part. He never expected to see Allan again.

"I can't believe you're here," Will manages to get out.

"Yeah, well, here I am," Allan shrugs like it's no big deal that he's crossed an ocean and walked for probable miles to get here. "Any chance of a drink?"

There's a jingle of coins from the purse on Allan's belt as he shifts and Will can imagine how many people Allan's charmed for a room and stolen from to eat. They might not be outlaws anymore, but it's what Allan's always done. It's the only way he knows how to live.

That, Will expects, but the look he catches on Allan's face as the pause stretches into silence is completely unexpected. There's an edge to Allan's expression like he's actually asking to be let in and maybe he'll even go away if Will refuses.

It's baffling, because this is Allan – always confident and sure that he's going to get his own way because he can charm his way into it. But this Allan is really something new and for once, Will realizes, he's got to take the lead.

"There's water in the jar," he says at last, tilting his head back to indicate a corner.

Allan nudges him, just enough to put him off balance, as he passes and the flash of teeth he sends Will over his shoulder is briefly, but intensely, grateful. Will doesn't think he's ever seen that expression on Allan's face before.

He can see that the sun's darkened Allan's skin (how long has Allan been out here?) and his eyes look bluer than Will remembers, like lights through coloured glass. Allan's studying him too and Will wonders what Allan sees different now. He wants to know. He also wants the blush he can feel spreading across his cheeks to disappear.

"Thanks," Allan raises the cup, having refilled it twice. "Too dry out there."

There's a waterskin slung over his body and a torn scarf knotted around his neck. He's traveled right. Will refills his own cup, his throat suddenly dry as Allan continues.

"Nice set-up up you've got here."

Allan's running his fingers over the figurines crowded on a surface, figurines he's got to recognise. Figurines Will can't stop carving.

Robin with a bow, Will can't draw him without a sorrowful bent to his figure and expression now.

Much, wide-eyed and indignant with his shield and sword.

Little John hulking with a scowl and a staff.

Djaq, of course, beautiful and strong and dangerous with a sword thrust expertly.

He's never happy with how he carves himself, Will Scarlett with his axes poised.

If Allan's really looked closely, he'll see that, apart from Djaq, there's more Allans (thieving and sneaky and grinning) there than any other character. Will can feel the blush creeping over his cheeks again.

"Nice work," Allan smirks at him and of course he's noticed. His hand is resting on a figure wearing the exact same grin. "Landed on your feet."

Will just nods, Allan's only half right. There were days of mistrustful glances and confrontations and Djaq yelling at angry men in a language that Will's still slowly learning. Eventually, when he kept on carving and the men who watched him from the house across from his workshop every day seemed satisfied, he began to make a living.

Every time Will sells something he thinks of his father. He's got the business Dan Scarlett always wanted him to have.

But Will doesn't tell this story, and Allan doesn't say anything for a bit, he just looks at Will, a hint of a smile playing with his lips. It's weird, like when Will first caught him staring across the fire in Sherwood and Allan would smirk or wink or say something so lewd that Will wouldn't stop blushing til the flames had burnt down. Now, though, it's thoughtful and full of something Allan's not talking about.

So Will goes back to what'll collect his thoughts and starts work on a half-finished figurine. As the first wood shavings fall, he can feel his heartbeat calm.

Only for it to speed up again when he feels Allan behind him, his breath on Will's neck. Will's skin feels like its on fire, but it's a familiar welcome burning.

Then a thought hits him, as Allan's fingers tentatively run along Will's collarbone in that slow way that drives him crazy.

_Djaq_

"Djaq," he breathes and he turns so that he can see Allan.

"Djaq," agrees Allan, a particularly happy smile spreading halfway across his face before something strangles it. "Yeah, Djaq."

* * *

Djaq's still out when Will takes Allan to their home.

"Out catching pigeons?" guesses Allan, bending down to take a look at one of the fidgety birds and shakes his head. "There good money in that?"

"She's out helping people," corrects Will, trying to reconcile the image of Allan in his and Djaq's house. "We haven't stopped doing that."

"I know," Allan raises his eyebrows like Will's overreacting. "So, medicine and stuff?"

Will rolls his eyes, because Allan's right but for once he's understated.

Djaq's time in Sherwood has given her so much more than the physicians, all men, have here. She helped people whether they wanted it or not and now she's the one the women come to when they're hurt or about to give birth. Will's lost count of how many times that's happened in his house.

He's in awe of Djaq though. It's like she's a stranger in her own land, but she is unaffected by the gossip loud enough to reach her ears, and no man tries to take her after the first one suffered a broken arm.

Allan doesn't know it and Will doesn't say it. Instead, they both smile in a similar way that speaks volumes of what they know about Djaq and that says it all.

The smell that comes in through the window reminds Will and he gets to his feet. Bare on stone. It's too cold for him, he'd prefer smooth wood.

"Are you hungry?"

Allan eats a lot and tells stories with his mouth full. He tells sad stories along with the good ones. Like the one about John making good on his threat to throw Much into the lake after Much mentioned Bonchurch one time too many, and how ridiculous they made the Sheriff look the week before he left.

The sad stories are about Robin.

"He's gone right off," Allan says through some meat and rice. "Keeps trying to get us and him killed. Now I'm not being funny, but that's no way to lead."

It's probably the most concern Allan's ever shown for Robin and part of Will's mouth moves in a sad smile. Sherwood sounds empty now.

"Oh yeah, and your brother showed up," Allan says casually, swallowing more water and letting out a massive unapologetic belch.

Just like that, Allan turns Will's world upside down again and Will has trouble comprehending what he's being told because it's so impossible.

"Luke came back to Sherwood?!" Will has to sit down. "When did…..?"

"About a month after we got back. The alarm went off and there he was, hanging from the tree," Allan grins at the memory. "Not too pleased when he found you'd gone. But he said he wanted to stay and help, wanted to fight against the Sheriff. He's not bad with an axe."

As Will tries to work through what Allan's telling him in his own way (his brother's an outlaw, his brother's in the gang, in real mortal danger everyday, fighting the Sheriff and Gisborne), he can hear familiar footsteps and a song being sung softly. Djaq's home.

Allan's stopped eating and is watching the door. Will recognizes the expression as the same one Allan wore when he asked Will for a drink.

The song dies on Djaq's lips when she spies Allan in her kitchen. Every part of her freezes in shock. Her medicine bag falls to the floor with the cloth that protected her head from the harsh sun. Her steps take her right up to Allan who's eyeing her like he's ready to run if he needs to.

"Hi, Djaq," he tries with a smile that's so far from confident.

"Why has it taken you so long, Allan a Dale?" demands Djaq in reply, a gleam of tears in her eyes and so much more in her voice.

But before Allan can answer, she grabs him roughly into a tight and close hug. Allan's holding her just as tightly and Will feels a wide smile crawling across his face. He knows not to say anything, he's happy just to watch.

Then Djaq's reaching a hand out blindly for him and he steps in as they make room, all three of them crushed together in silent and total gratitude.

* * *

"She was something else."

Allan's words are quiet, almost respectful, contain maybe even awe, and Will nods, his fingers intertwined with Djaq's. It's only him and Djaq that visit Marian and Carter.

Their graves are still marked just by simple wooden crosses and Carter's crusader shield, two harsh strokes of colour on an otherwise bare and unremarkable hillside. It's completely wrong for the people buried there.

Will crouches and carefully places desert flowers on both graves. He used to do it for his mother. It was his idea to do it for Marian and Carter and it always makes his heart tremble. Djaq squeezes his hand; she is a strong, solid shape, a rock beside him.

"It's weird, back in Sherwood it felt like sometimes it's not real, all that," Allan gestures towards the graves. "But here……."

"Here, she will stay," takes up Djaq, as usual able to cut into exactly what Allan is trying to avoid saying.

There's a silence as all three of them look down at the graves. Will pulls Djaq closer, feels her heartbeat. Times like this make him feel full of shadows. He's lost both his parents, he'll probably never visit their graves again. Here, two of his friends lie. He shouldn't be visiting them, they shouldn't be gone. His hand clenches tightly.

"Yeah, well, the Night Watchman's still around," Allan's face flashes with a sudden grin and the way he glances around is like he's talking to the graves, wanting Marian to hear too. "Still making sure the poor are fed and that, like she used to."

"How?" frowns Will.

"We've got her costume."

"Very pretty," a smile fills Djaq's voice.

"Right," Allan smirks back, looking a lot more like himself. "Me and Much do it, John can't fit. Robin doesn't like it, of course, kicks up a fuss every time he sees us doing it."

Allan shrugs like it's all beyond him, but Will can tell there's a lot more stories there. Painful sad ones about Robin. Maybe stuff that even Allan'll keep to himself.

"She would want the Night Watchman to carry on, doing what she did," Djaq decides, nodding towards where Marian lies.

"Yeah, I reckon," Allan smiles, something like relief in his expression too. "Still causing trouble for the Sheriff, like she did."

There's silence again and they stand there for a long time, the shadows of the crosses moving across the sand.

* * *

Allan sleeps downstairs. There's a long cushioned chair that he fills with their spare bedding and sleeps comfortably in. He watches sleepily in the mornings as Will and Djaq go about their business. Djaq working with the pigeons, helping Will to still learn more about them, before heading out with her bag. Her kiss is soft on Will's mouth, but the meaning is firm and Will feels it like a physical thing.

Bassam is curious about their visitor and asks both Will and Djaq without preamble why their friend has returned to them so soon. It has after all only been a few months.

"He came with news of our friends," replies Djaq.

Allan does tell Will news as Will works on his orders. He talks about Sherwood, about Luke and all he's done. Allan doesn't blunt the experiences, leaving in the story about Luke almost getting his arm severed when caught by Gisborne.

"He's got a nasty scar there now," concludes Allan, like it's nothing to worry about. "He paid Gisborne back though, ducked him in the lake and nearly drowned him."

Half of Will wants to race across the ocean and drag his brother away to where he'll be safe and protected and unharmed by what Will's chosen to do. Just like he did when they were kids. But he can hear Luke, speaking with a Scarlett's anger.

"_We're not kids anymore."_

Will thinks he probably sounded like that when defying his father's wishes.

Allan helps him deliver chairs and cabinets and all kinds of commissions, complaining about working in the heat and how does Will stand it? Shouldn't people come and collect their furniture themselves? He hopes they get paid for this. Will grins, thanks Allan for his help, and offers to buy him a drink with only a bit of a blush staining him.

One day, when one of Djaq's friends is in the middle of what is becoming a long and clearly very painful labor, Will comes back from delivering fresh water to Djaq to find Allan telling stories to the small crowd of children waiting there. They've been scared and wide-eyed all afternoon, huddled together and crying for their mother.

Allan's got them captivated, Will sort of recognizes the story of a raid they were all part of last year. Bits of it are completely different of course, Allan plays a much larger part than he really did. But the kids are listening, really listening to the tale he's spinning for them. Will watches it, the sight warming him completely with a sort of pride.

Allan can find a place here, if he wants one.

* * *

They settle into a comfortable curve. It's different to Sherwood, worlds away, but the feeling of being together stays almost the same.

Djaq heals. Will carves. Allan lies.

It's been the way of it since the beginning. Allan's stories are starting to get him noticed. Children follow him around now and when Will doesn't need his help, Allan tells his stories. He complains about the kids, to their faces most of the time because this is Allan after all. But they're not afraid of him, even though he does keep a sword on his belt like Will and Djaq.

He teaches them his tricks too, slight of hand and survival as fun and games.

"Little bleeders," he mutters one night, his mouth oddly affectionate around the words.

Most of the mothers are grateful and begin to press coins, only a little truth be told, into Allan's hand when they come to find their wayward children. He is Djaq's friend, he can be trusted.

"Honest work," Allan shakes his head. "It won't last."

But it does and he stays and the apprehension begins to melt from him. Djaq laughs when she catches sight of it, a dark creasing in his expression.

"Do you think we are going to throw you out?"

Her tone tells him exactly how ridiculous this idea is and her eyes are full of the absoluteness of staying. When Allan's shoulders relax once and for all, so do Will's.

Djaq's expression is soft and affectionate in the evening's half light and her eyes say _foolish boys_, and Allan's fingers meet Will's. That night, Allan doesn't sleep alone.

* * *

Will wakes up to Djaq singing, the pigeons responding to the uplift of her tone. Allan's face is mashed against the pillow, making his protests against the early morning incomprehensible. Just the sight of that alone draws a huge smile across Will's face.

Like one of Allan's stories he overheard the other day, he's tempted to press a kiss to Allan's soft skin to see if this is real.

Allan manages to sit up, his bleary eyes clearing when he sees Will close by. _Not a dream then, _his expression seems to say under the smile.

Djaq is drawing closer to them, and Will feels the memory of fingers playing across his body.

"So……." Allan grins at him, cocky and something so real that shoots through Will like a fiery arrow. Like starting a new chapter. "What's for breakfast?"

_-end_


End file.
